The Call
by drowsteel
Summary: Continuation of the Call of Cthulhu, into modern day. A group of investigators brave madness and death to uncover hidden horrors.
1. Chapter 1

Lovecraft's message on the website was enigmatic, as usual.

"Slaughter Roses and witches hang."

Tabitha started her long, tedious search through the London Times. All Lovecraft's messages were coded to key in to either the London Times, LA Times, or the Wall Street Journal. Sometimes all of them had conflicting information, and there was nothing to be done about it, you just had to make the best guess and hope that you got it right.

The last time Tabitha had met Lovecraft in person, just before he vanished forever, had been six years ago in New Orleans. He'd shot a wealthy executive in the face. If Tabitha ever saw him again, she knew he'd likely be dead. In fairness, he might be already; there was no guarantee that the man who posted web messages was the same one she'd met years ago.

"I can look at that one, if you like," James offered.

Over the top of the newspaper, Tabitha sent an icy stare at James. He didn't scan right. He'd miss the clues.

James sighed. "Can I see the sport pages, then?"

"When I'm done," Tabitha answered.

"What about the ones from Los Angeles?"

"No!" Tabitha almost shouted. "Be fucking patient!"

James held his hands up in a motion of surrender. He usually wasn't one to push for conflict, and by personality it would be hard to tell that he was a former member of the British Royal Marine Commando. Denied reading material, James picked up a pen off the table and flipped it from hand to hand like a ball, occasionally glancing at the television program Mayumi was watching.

As usual, Mayumi was watching orchestras. She loved classical music and shows about composers. Since James didn't, he was usually bored with Mayumi's choice of programming.

The three of them weren't friends, but they worked together well enough. Tabitha thought that it was best to keep emotional distance, in case one of them should die. Especially if it was horrible. Like when Allen died.

"Are you done?" James asked. Tabitha had begun staring at nothing as thoughts of Allen came back to her. Without a word, Tabitha threw the sports section at him. "Thank you."

Traveling to Salem, Oregon was eventually decided by an article in the New York Times about the murder of high school student Rose Ailes. The death was described as a "brutal, execution-style slaying with no apparent motive", and Lovecraft's interest in the murder wasn't immediately apparent. It was never immediately apparent.

Going by commercial airline wasn't possible. Rather, it was risky. James had no identity in the U.S., and brought with him a Weatherby .320 rifle, and even if they could have gotten him fake paperwork, Tabitha didn't like gambling that airport security wouldn't take special interest in them. Mayumi might have known some mumbo-jumbo to get them past inspection, but really Tabitha hated any plan which involved "might".

Instead, they went by car. The trip from Olympia, Washington was less than three hours. Even if the message had been for Florida, they would likely have driven.

At the Oregon border, the cops didn't give them a second look. Their car had Washington plates and Tabitha looked like one of the many goth or punk college students from Portland.

The actual murder had taken place in a tiny suburb of Salem called Greenvale, and the victim had been shot in the streets near the local high school. Not wanting to stay too close, Tabitha reserved a hotel in the city of Salem; it was a thirty minute drive.

"Well, it's a very nice neighborhood isn't it?" James commented.

It was nice. The houses were well-maintained and had lawns. The high school which Rose had attended was a private school run by the local community, and most of the teachers also lived in town.

"Is this a religious school?" Mayumi asked, squinting at the large white with red trim buildings which made up the layout of Saint Michael High School.

"Safe call to make," Tabitha replied. Mayumi often missed out on things which your average American could tell at a glance.

"They remind me of the supremacy group," Mayumi said, still looking at the high school buildings. "That used to hang black people."

"The Ku Klux Klan," James answered. "I was thinking that, too."

Tabitha took another look at the buildings, with their pristine white and sharp red lines. Even without squinting, it was easy to picture them as giant, sheet-wearing murderous men.

"Right," Tabitha murmured. She wished Mayumi had kept that observation to herself.

"Police are watching," James said casually as he pretended to write in his pocket notebook. Tabitha tried to look around without turning her head. Mayumi was less subtle.

The patrol car had "Marion County Sheriff" printed on the side. The deputy inside was probably in his mid-forties and had black hair with a lot of gray to it. From behind his aviator-style sunglasses, he was obviously sizing them up.

"Do we look suspicious?" Mayumi said aloud.

James smirked. "Well, I don't. The both of you, perhaps."

Although James was teasing, it happened to be true. Tabitha was all in black with pale skin and dyed-black hair, one strip of bright-red lipstick ran down the center of her lips. Mayumi was so obviously curious about everything that she stood out as either lost or confused. Only James looked perfectly at home, relaxed and calm in his blue polo shirt. He looked very kind and boyish, probably without trying. That son of a bitch.

As the patrol car pulled close to them, James pretended to notice its presence for the first time and gave a friendly nod. Mayumi watched it intently, oblivious to being discrete. Tabitha decided to let her feelings show and gave a bored, disgusted look to the deputy.

"What are you doing here?" The deputy got out of his car and asked the question sternly, not bothering with any facade of friendliness.

"We're an investigations firm," James replied with a smile. "_The Olympian_ asked us to follow up on possible motives for our recent murder."

"There was no motive," the deputy said flatly. "It was random violence."

_Conway,_ the deputy's name plate read. His badge number was 241.

"The thing is," James said, "it doesn't really feel like a random murder. Well, so our newspaper people tell us. I suppose they imagine that a single murder on a public street which isn't followed by any others could have a motive."

The friendly way James spoke tended to mask the underlying viciousness of what he said. Deputy Conway, like most people, wasn't sure whether James was mocking him or not.

Tabitha drew out her license as a private investigation firm and handed it to the deputy, who immediately handed it back to her without looking at it.

"We'll be talking to students as they come out," Tabitha told him.

"You better watch out," Conway said darkly. "This city's still sore, and if people want to kill you for asking questions I won't blame them."

Clearly wishing he had a reason to arrest them, the deputy got back in his car and made a point of writing down Tabitha's license plate number before driving off.

"Nice fellow," James said.

"No he wasn't," Mayumi said, wondering how James could have missed it.

Students started leaving promptly at 5:00 PM.

"They leave all at the same time," Mayumi said. She and Tabitha were in the car and parked down the street, letting James be the one to make contact with the kids.

Watching the young people leave campus, Tabitha knew that Mayumi had been right. The uniformed students stayed in tight groups, looking with suspicion at even the most gentle stranger. Tabitha could only imagine how they'd take to her.

The uniforms and group movement made blood rush to Tabitha's head, and Allen's face rushed into her mind. His face with cheeks slit open and eyes punctured, leaking that viscous clear fluid...

Tabitha threw open the driver's side door and dry heaved, going into a cold sweat. She put her head between her knees and gulped in air that tasted like copper. Miserable, uniform-wearing little shits.

Mayumi didn't even look over. She kept watching James.

"It isn't worth thinking about," Mayumi said. "He doesn't feel pain now."

"I'm sure it's hard," James said, looking sympathetic and concerned. "I only want to get at justice for the deceased."

It had taken him several tries to find someone who would talk to him. The vast majority of students hadn't even been willing to listen to his pitch, instead walking faster and staring silently back. The girl who looked back a little longer was the winner, James knew. He'd started wheedling, and she'd walked slower and slower, until she nervously answered.

"It was somebody from outside of town," the girl told James. "Rose was one of us, so she was safe with us."

"So there wasn't anyone who didn't like her?" James asked.

"That wouldn't have mattered," the girl answered.

Other students were stopping now, but not to talk. They began to form a circle, staring both at James and the girl who was speaking to him.

"Thank you for your time," James said with a smile, pretending to take no notice of the coldly hostile crowd forming around him. "Afternoon," he nodded to the ring of students as he walked away calmly. The crowd stared after him, before moving as one off campus.

"Yes, I feel that way too," James said to the retching Tabitha on his return to the car. "I think Lovecraft was the one who murdered that girl."

Tabitha was still in no shape to answer. Her stomach was convulsing, trying to push out its nonexistent contents.

"Why do you think it was him?" Mayumi asked.

"They make me think it," James pointed at the school. "Lie down in the back," he said to Tabitha, hurriedly putting her in the rear seats of the car before getting into the driver's seat and speeding off.

James drove them to Salem, where they stopped for dinner. Tabitha mostly drank clear liquids, finally getting a little appetite back and having a sandwich. Around nine, they went to the hotel Tabitha had reserved. It was modest and cheap, only for functionality.

"We can't stay here," Mayumi said suddenly, and she grabbed James' shoulder.

Without a word, James turned to look at Tabitha. She was looking much healthier than she had a few hours ago. It wasn't like Mayumi to insist.

Tabitha shrugged. "Back to Olympia," she agreed.

Feeling oddly relieved, James pulled away and started the drive back to Olympia.

It was an early morning, though not by design. Everyone decided on their own volition to be awake before five thirty, unable to sleep any later. Mayumi decided to occupy herself with making an egg and bacon breakfast. Tabitha made a web search for any information about Greenvale. James took the rare opportunity to browse the television channels.

James turned off the television, then started looking out the windows. "Mayumi," he asked slowly, "are we safe here?"

"I don't know," Mayumi replied. "Do you think so?"

James looked at Tabitha, who was having no luck finding anything new on the web. "No," she said. "We're not."

After a quick, tense breakfast, everyone was back in the car; it didn't feel safe to stay in one place. The drive was scenic, intentionally taking no one particular route but making a winding way to Greenvale. Every so often, they made a stop in whatever town was close to ask about Greenvale.

Nothing. Apart from the murder of Rose Ailes, no one knew anything about it, or anyone from there, or anyone who knew anyone from there, or how long the town had been there.

"How did a newspaper get the story, anyhow?" Tabitha finally asked.

She had to ask it several times, to several different people before finally a gas station attendant, of all people, knew something.

"The shooting was right in front of a sheriff's deputy," he said. "My brother in law."

Tabitha cautiously asked her next question. "Deputy Conway?"

"No," the attendant shook his head. "Well, yeah, he was there too. My brother in law is George Mayall, though. He said it was a tall, real thin black guy who did it."

Lovecraft.

The attendant looked thoughtful. "He said Conway gave him a hard time about recommending the press release."

"Like how?" Tabitha asked.

"I don't know."

No doubt existed in Tabitha's mind now that Lovecraft had been the one who murdered Rose Ailes. He's orchestrated the newspaper article. On returning to her car, she wanted to tell James that he'd been right, but his face was already tense.

"Our hotel which we didn't stay at," James started, "burned."

Returning to Olympia was now no longer possible. Anything which could be traced back to Tabitha was compromised and deadly.

"Conway will kill us," Tabitha said grimly, staring straight ahead as she drove. "He's one of them."

No one argued. Tabitha's reasoning wasn't flawless, but there was no reason to doubt it. Thinking that anyone wasn't out to get them at this point seemed foolhardy.

Past midnight, James dropped Tabitha off just outside of Greenvale while driving with the headlights off. He drove a mile away before parking.

Tabitha felt exhilarated in spite of herself. Being out in the dark sneaking around reminded her of being a teenager, when she'd raced around Olympia at night with her friends. A lot of the things she did now were things she'd learned then, about moving quickly unseen.

The suburban town had brightly lit streets, illuminated by street lamps that stood like alien guardians along the roads. Tabitha felt certain that other eyes were lurking along those well-lit streets where she couldn't protect herself in darkness. Where she'd be vulnerable in the light.

Tabitha stayed next to things, anything which could break up her silhouette. Nothing moved on the streets except for her, and the imagined faces which peered from every house and every window.

The house which Rose had lived in was hard to find. All suburban houses looked alike even in daylight. At night, they were nearly indistinguishable. If they'd taken the time to find it in the daylight...

_We'd be dead._

The thought was sobering enough.

There were no alarms on the houses. Normal suburbia was paranoid, frightened. Secure and wired.

These were not suburban homes, Tabitha knew. They looked like it. During the day they looked like it. Now they looked like rotten, deformed eggs which still somehow nurtured the diseased vermin inside them. At any moment they might burst forth their progeny into the world. Shambling, darkened creatures which would...

_I'm cracking up,_ Tabitha thought. It accompanied more fear than it had two years ago, when it had been less true.

Finally, Tabitha found the right street numbers. The house was one-story, with a wooden fence around the back yard. It reminded her of houses she'd used to wish she lived in. Briefly, she considered going around the back. She found the front door unlocked.

Even on the inside, the hardwood floors and darkened halls had a dormant energy that seemed to nurture some unseen, sinister young. Tabitha wondered if Lovecraft had been here, in this house.

_No,_ she decided, taking her shoes off to move silently. _Lovecraft was a coward. That's why we're here, and he's fleeing to distant parts of the country where these people can't tear him to pieces._

Tabitha felt suddenly certain that she was going to be torn to pieces. Because that bastard Lovecraft had sent her in his place. Because that coward ran away.

Forcing the thoughts from her mind, Tabitha crept though the house. She took a keychain light from her pocket, only turning it on for seconds at a time.

The light exposed bizarre statuary. Twisted, strange depictions of creatures which clawed their way from the deepest corners of Tabitha's mind. Goosebumps raised all over her body, and the panicked urge to run swelled up inside her.

Tabitha pressed herself forward, deeper into the house. A flash of the light on a bookcase revealed bound works with strange symbols that would have meant something to Mayumi, but were just marks of madness to Tabitha.

The smell of aged meat grew in Tabitha's nose and stung the back of her throat, the farther in Tabitha went. She knew now which door she was moving towards, and her mind put forth the horrors which it said waited for her. There were demons and rot and death in that room, like the ones which had struck her sanity in the past and would this time shatter her mind forever.

Her mind told her that every time.

The doorknob felt unnaturally warm in Tabitha's hand. It was because it was a living thing; a womb. The door was all that protected the outside world from the horror inside. It was insane to try to open the door. It was worse than suicide, more malevolent than murder.

As the hinges swung, the foul smell of putrescence oozed over Tabitha's body, coating her skin and soaking into her, ensuring that she'd never be clean again. The slowly swinging door exposed more and more of a scene which Tabitha wished didn't exist, but continued to be exposed as the cruel light allowed it to reach her eyes.

The body of Rose Ailes lay on the floor, now not only shot in the face but fully torn open, skin gone and organs exposed. In the center of what had once been a young woman was a man who must have been her father, lying face down and naked, covered in congealed blood and other, colored chunks of things which looked like they shouldn't have been part of a human body. His bearded, blood coated face snapped towards Tabitha in the doorway and he gurgled like a feral beast before screaming the nightmarish words:

_"IA! IA! CTHULHU FTAGHN!"_

The balding, bearded ghoul lunged at Tabitha, who slammed the door against him with the weight of her entire body behind it. His arm caught between door and frame, snapping like a twig yet still twitching, fingers opening and closing as the rapidly discoloring hand prevented the door from closing. The man howled in pain.

Tabitha yanked the door back, allowing her attacker to tumble to the ground. He tried to break his fall with his hands, and the bone of one arm tore through his skin. Tabitha dropped on his back, leading with both knees into his spine before racing to the front of the house, crashing into a table on the way before snatching up the shoes she'd left by the door and fleeing outside. Behind her, the horrendous ghoul still screamed.

Light posts tried to reveal Tabitha as the invading infection in the body of Greenvale. Tabitha's heart raced, telling her to run without stopping, but she forced herself to be slow, to think and not panic. She threw her shoes back on, knowing that a foot injury meant death now. Howls continued from the house behind her, and lights from those other deadly structures turned on one by one.

Hands shaking, Tabitha struggled to unholster the .38 snubnose revolver strapped under her shirt, already trying to find enough darkness to shield herself.

A woman streaked out from a house across the street, already at a full run. She was dressed in nightclothes, holding a cleaver in her hands as she let out a scream of pure madness.

Tabitha didn't shoot. The urge to run overtook her, and she sprinted from the cleaver-wielding madwoman. Her pace was like lightning.

Other people poured into the street, and Tabitha knew that if she even tried to start shooting, she'd be torn to pieces by a hundred more than she could ever hope to kill. The throng howled in cacophony, sometimes in words that Tabitha knew and sometimes in that forgotten, elder language which sprung from insane dreams. Later, Tabitha would have no memory of the chase. At the time, she could make out the individual faces in the crowd, could see them tripping over each other as they tried to overtake her, could see some thinking predators try to use cars, only to get stuck on the bodies of their swarming bretheren.

Several times, fingers tore at Tabitha's body, but later she would not remember them. She shot someone in the chest, but did it without trying and had no memory of it. She only vaguely would be able to remember the car which blocked her path; Marion County Sheriff, it said on the side. She remembered Conway's face, obscured partially by the pistol he aimed at her. Tabitha laughed hysterically as she continued to run at him. Being killed quickly would be a blessing.

_I'm cracking up,_ Tabitha thought without the least bit of fear.

Conway shot twelve times, and he missed every time. He couldn't aim very well out the window of his car, and couldn't tell where to target against the crowd. Behind Tabitha, several people fell bleeding.

Tabitha shot once at Conway, missing completely but making him duck into his car. Tabitha vaulted easily over the hood, still laughing from giddy fear. Her pursuers crashed into one another, piling up even as Conway ran them over, trying to pursue Tabitha.

The patrol car stopped dead at the next gunshot, not any little handgun round but the bellow of James' Weatherby .320 round roaring through the night and into Conway's head. Several other reports followed, nearly stopping the crowd entirely in its tracks. Tabitha's car swung over to her, Mayumi at the wheel. Screams of outrage emanated from the mob as Tabitha dove into the backseat, legs and lungs burning.

A few newspapers the next day had the story "New Roanoke?" in their pages. None of them were front page. So little was known about Greenvale anyway that it invited little speculation that it was suddenly uninhabited. In coming years, it would be included in paranormal magazines as a list of strange occurrences.

It was weeks later that Tabitha posted, from Rhode Island:

_Witch trial in recess,_ she wrote, _prosecution resting in your house._


	2. Chapter 2

"Where is James?"

Tabitha's hands trembled as she clutched her revolver, pointing it at James' face from three feet away.

Wondering if he was about to die, James forced himself to sit perfectly still. He said nothing, not sure what might set Tabitha off.

"Where is James?!" Tabitha's voice rose to a shriek, and her hands twitched on the gun. Her face was tense and her eyes twitched, her hair matted with sweat. There was no telling what she was seeing.

From the side room, Mayumi slowly walked in with her hands raised. Tabitha's eyes turned without moving her pistol from its course.

"Tabitha," Mayumi said carefully, "you are not in danger."

"What?" Tabitha looked outraged at the implication. "Don't you see what's happening?"

Mayumi put her hand out slowly and pushed Tabitha's gun until it was pointing at the floor. She put her hand on Tabitha's shoulder and rubbed it gently. "James and I are here," she said. "No one else."

Tabitha raised the gun again, this time pointing it at her own face. Mayumi and James grabbed her simultaneously, wrestling her to the ground as she struggled and screamed.

"They're going to kill me!" Tabitha screamed. "Let me die! Let me die quick!"

After two days of constant watching, Tabitha had recovered enough to be left alone in a room by herself, as long as James or Mayumi were near enough to hear her if she started trying to kill herself or anyone else.

Neither James nor Mayumi had ever known Tabitha when she wasn't under severe mental strain, this was just the first time she'd ever completely broken down. She needed professional help, probably for a long time. The problem was, she couldn't be committed to an institution. James and Mayumi weren't family, for one. For another, there was a very real possibility of her never coming out.

--

Although the house had been empty for six months, sometimes it felt like Mary still lived there. Louis would still think he saw her in the kitchen. He still spoke aloud to her, half-expecting an answer to come from the hollow air.

Thinking about the future was the hardest. Louis wondered how many days he had left, and why he had to wait. Sometimes he cried, always in private. In public, he was the same as ever, and his neighbors remarked at how well he was doing after his wife's death. They wouldn't ever see him cry.

It wouldn't do to mope forever. The knowledge that he couldn't last forever was comforting, in its own way. Each day, Louis felt that making it to the end of the day was the only thing he had to do. His health was still good for his age, and soon it wouldn't be.

Louis took a walk to Providence every day; only a mile, but calming and something to do. He talked to people along the way. He'd become recognizable in one corner of the city. He knew several other people by name.

He did not know the young man that approached him on the street.

"Doctor Halsie?" The blond man had a pleasant smile and spoke with a gentle English accent. Louis wondered if he'd met him before.

"I'm sorry," Louis blinked at the man. "I've met you before?"

"James Weatherby," James extended his hand. "No, you've never met me."

"Ah," Louis shook James' hand.

"I need your help as a psychiatrist," James began.

"Oh, no no," Louis shook his head and started walking past James. "I've retired, I'm sorry."

"Oh, I know," James walked with Louis. "It's rather the reason I sought you out. I could buy you a biscuit and explain," he gestured at a Starbucks. "After all, I'd be happy to accept your rejection once you fully understand my position."

Louis considered it. He considered the empty house that waited for him. "Coffee, then," he agreed.

"The help isn't for me," James started explaining as the duo walked to Starbucks. "I have a dear friend who suffered a breakdown, and whose family refuses to acknowledge."

"Her problem, or acknowledging her at all?" Louis asked for clarification.

"The problem," James said. "They prefer to keep her mental illness a secret. Poor thing is suicidal."

"Are you sure it isn't a matter of money?" Louis asked.

James held the door for Louis.

"Dead sure," James said. "I've offered to pay for it. They also refuse state-sponsored commitment. It's a stigma issue for them."

Louis nodded. He'd heard similar stories in the past, with shocking frequency. He ordered coffee, and James paid.

"Part of the problem," Louis said after James had explained for several more minutes, "is that I can't possibly write prescriptions if your friend needs them."

"Well, some therapy is better than none," James replied. "I would at least feel more comfortable having a diagnosis."

"What if," Louis took a breath, "I had to recommend that she be involuntarily committed?"

James shook his head. "Impossible. Her family will sign her out right away and I'd never get to see her again."

"That worries me," Louis said.

"It worries me, too," James said. "But it would be a start, and I'll pay you your standard rate."

Louis smirked. "My rate before retirement was one hundred and fifty dollars an hour."

"I take it back," James laughed before drawing out a money clip and peeling off twenty-four one-hundred dollar bills. "I told you I offered her family."

Looking around nervously, Louis protested "Most people pay with a check."

"I suppose that's because they aren't concerned with traceability, in part," James sighed as he folded the more than two-thousand dollars in half and tucked it into Louis' pocket.

Louis felt thrilled, but in a frightening way. He knew that more was going on than the honest looking Englishman had told him, but was excited to be part of something which was secretive and illegal. He wondered if he was going to be dealing with a Mafia daughter, in spite of the ridiculousness of the idea. Fancies kept running through his mind.

The patient arrived that afternoon, alone. She drove up and knocked on Louis' door.

Louis tried to take everything in about his new client. She dressed all in black, with dyed-black hair that had red roots showing. She wore no makeup, and stress lines etched her face, accenting the dark circles under her eyes.

"Hello," she said without emotion. "I'm Tabitha Curwen."

"Come in," Louis said with a soft smile. "I'm Doctor Halsie."

Louis had prepared his sitting room like a therapist's office, moving his big recliner next to a desk. He gestured for Tabitha to sit there. "Can I get you anything?" he asked.

"Bourbon?" Tabitha asked. "I don't know how lucid you need me."

"Do you drink often?" Louis asked.

"Hardly ever," Tabitha sat down in the recliner and sank down as if exhausted.

Watching her behavior, Louis tried to decide whether it would be prudent to give Tabitha liquor. He decided that with all the other secrecy going on, it wouldn't hurt.

Tabitha didn't say anything as Louis set the drink down next to her. She didn't pick up the glass, either.

As he sat down, Louis jotted down _highly indifferent_ on his notepad.

"I'm going to ask you a series of questions," Louis said. "Is that all right?"

"Yes," Tabitha said flatly.

"Do you feel safe here?"

"No."

"Do you think I'm here to help you?"

"Maybe."

"Do you think you need help?"

Tabitha grinned. "Yes."

Louis made a mark on his pad. "Do I have it in my power to help you?"

"Yes."

"What do you feel is your biggest issue?"

"A massive cult which wants to awaken and serve a dark god," Tabitha said, staring at the wall.

Louis didn't write anything.

"Are you having fun with me?" Louis asked.

"No."

Louis didn't write that down. Her answer either crossed the line into complete psychosis, of which she didn't readily manifest any other symptoms, or she was trying to get him to freak out over an outrageous lie. He pressed on.

"Why is that a problem for you?"

Tabitha turned her head to look at Louis for the first time since she'd sat down.

"They're murderers," she said.

"And they want to kill you?" he prompted.

"Yes."

Louis tapped his notepad with his pen, a nervous habit when he was thinking hard.

"Do they have reason to?"

"Yes."

"What is that reason?"

"They kill anyone who finds out about them," she turned back to the wall. "That's how they stay secret."

On his pad, Louis jotted _psychosis:unspecific._

"How many people belong to this cult?"

"I don't know," Tabitha said. "I estimate between one and ten million, all over the world."

"Now, when they kill people," Louis thought the question out. "Is it a kind of ritual? Like an Incan sacrifice?"

"Incans didn't make human sacrifice a common thing," Tabitha replied. "But no, anyway. When they make a ritual out of it, it's more like something Voodoun. Usually if they ambush you on their time, there's a ritual. If they just have to kill you because you and they happen to cross paths, they'll shoot you, stab you, whatever."

_Complex delusion_ went on the pad.

"Tell me this drink isn't poisoned," Tabitha said.

"Do you think I'm trying to poison you?"

Tabitha took the bourbon and downed it. After a second, she said "no."

"Are you saying that in case I might turn out to be a member of the cult?"

"No," Tabitha set the glass down. "James would have spotted you if you were. I just feel...uncomfortable."

"James knows about the cult, too?"

"Yes."

"You trust James?"

"Yes."

"Can you tell me about him?"

"He's a great shot," Tabitha said. "Former commando."

"And he fights this cult?"

"Right."

"What else?"

Tabitha shrugged. "He's smooth. When Mayumi and me can't talk someone into something, he can. He's on the run from something that happened in Britain. I don't know what."

Notes went on the pad.

"Who is Mayumi?"

"She's our occult specialist," Tabitha was getting noticeably more relaxed as she continued. "She can read ancient languages and knows about magic."

"She can cast spells?"

"She thinks so," Tabitha answered. "All I know for sure is that she understands what the cultists are doing when they cast spells."

"So THEY do magic."

"Like Hoodoo."

"Do their spells work?"

Tabitha obviously wrestled with whether or not to be truthful.

"Yes," she said at last. "Their spells work. They can do things that stretch the boundaries of reality."

"Like what?"

"I don't know!" Tabitha sounded angry. "I don't know what the fuck it is! They just do...things that aren't possible!"

"Calm down," Louis said gently. "If you feel like I'm pressing you too much on any issue, let me know and we'll move on."

"Move on," Tabitha said. "No more about magic. I don't get it."

"Okay," Louis flipped the page in his notebook. "Can you tell me if you feel suicidal?"

"Yes."

"That's yes, you do?"

"Right."

"If you had a gun right now, would you shoot yourself?"

"I feel good right now," Tabitha said. "I'd probably wait until I went outside."

"So you feel good talking about these things?"

"Yeah."

"But you feel like killing yourself other times?"

"Yes."

"Is it because of this cult?"

"Yes," Tabitha said. "Because if they catch me..."

"If they catch you?" Louis prompted after Tabitha trailed off.

"I feel like you're pressing me on the subject and want to move on," Tabitha spoke in a nearly mechanical monotone.

"But these feelings are because you're afraid of being captured?" Louis checked. "No other reason?"

"That's enough of a reason."

"Well, I would say so," Louis scribbled notes. "But if that's the case, why haven't you gone through with it?"

"I'm afraid of death," Tabitha said. "And my friends stop me from doing it."

"James and Mayumi stop you?"

"Right."

"Because they're your friends."

"No," Tabitha said flatly. "Because they need me. Neither of them are in the U.S. legally. They're here to fight the cult."

"I see," Louis didn't know what else to say.

The next day, Louis met with James again in the morning, as they'd arranged.

"I can't do anything for her long-term delusions," Louis said. "Flat out, she needs extensive psychiatric treatment. What we can do is perhaps stop the suicidal aspect temporarily."

James smiled. "Well, we take what we can get. It's a step in the right direction."

"Do you know what she thinks you are?" Louis asked.

"The sniper thing?" James asked.

"Okay, you do know," Louis sighed. "She thinks you're a former commando who helps her fight the cult which is after her."

James nodded solemnly. "She told me that you're only helping her because you want her to teach you spells." James smirked.

"I wish I had my notepad," Louis said. "Actually, your friend really does make me wish I still practiced."

"So do it," James said.

Louis laughed. "I'm too old. My credentials haven't been renewed."

"Renew them," James smiled. "If you can handle Tabitha, you've still got some fight in you."

Louis shook his head, smiling. Smiling and thinking.

"Hi," Tabitha said curtly as she walked into the house and took her place in the recliner. She eyed the already poured bourbon on the table.

"It isn't poisoned," Louis said as he joined her.

"But I didn't ask for it," Tabitha sounded annoyed. "Why did you pour it?"

"I didn't mean to upset you," Louis said, removing the glass. "You asked for one yesterday, and I thought it might make you feel comfortable."

"It doesn't," Tabitha sat down, glaring directly at Louis.

"Why does that upset you?" Louis asked.

Tabitha didn't answer.

"Is it because you think I'm up to something?"

"Yes," Tabitha faced the wall, the same as she'd done yesterday.

"Will you tell me what it is that I'm up to?"

"No," Tabitha said. "I don't know what I thought. I was just...uncomfortable with it."

"Okay," Louis said. Picking up his pen, he asked "do you feel any different today?"

"No."

"Yesterday," Louis flipped through his notes, "you said that you felt like you would have shot yourself if you'd had a gun. You still feel that?"

"Yes."

Louis let a pause go by. "Can we talk some more about this cult you were telling me about?"

"Sure."

"How many people did you say were in it?"

"Between one and ten million, but I don't actually know."

"And they commit Voodoo murders?"

"Voodoun style rituals," Tabitha corrected.

"And it's the fear of this cult that makes you want to kill yourself, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Is there any place this cult can't get to you?"

"Yes."

Louis wrote notes.

"Where?"

"Lots of places," Tabitha said. "It's like running from the mob. If people don't know where you are, then no one can find you. It's what Lovecraft does."

"Who's Lovecraft?"

"He's in hiding. He fights the cult, sort of. He figures out some of their secret members, then publicly murders them in the hopes that other members of that particular sect will have to relocate or be arrested. Then he goes back into hiding."

"I see," Louis said. "Now, if there are places where you can hide, why don't you just hide?"

"I don't know when their god will awaken."

Louis paused, considering that answer.

"So if you went into hiding their god might awaken."

"Not as a result," Tabitha sounded annoyed at how crazy the doctor believed she was. "The possibility exists that it will, at some point, awaken. If it does..." she trailed off.

"How do you fight a god?"

Silence.

Tabitha made a sound, though not words. It was a sound like a choke, which turned into a sob, which turned into a howl. Her shoulders rocked and tears poured from her eyes as she completely broke down and cried.

Louis got up and put his arms around Tabitha, and she clutched him desperately. She continued crying for an hour and a half.

"She had a moment of catharsis yesterday," Louis told James. "How much do you know about the god of her cult?"

"Oh, quite a bit," James said thoughtfully. "But there are a few of them. There's the main one, which lies beneath the waves in a dead city."

"Cthulhu," Louis said.

James' eyes widened and he grabbed Louis' arm. His grip was powerful, much more so than his slight build let on, and Louis arm was bruised in James' grip.

"OW!" Louis wrenched his arm away. "What the hell are you doing?!"

James was already back in his calm, easy personality. Almost imperceptibly, his eyes darted around the coffee shop.

"Terribly sorry," James smiled. "If Tabitha hears that word, she tends to immediately distrust whoever was speaking it. I just don't want it getting around."

Louis rubbed his arm, remembering the look of panic which had been on James' face just a moment ago.

"Hello," Tabitha sounded a little shy as she entered Louis' house that afternoon.

"Anything to drink?" Louis asked.

"Some water, please," Tabitha smiled weakly. Louis got it for her.

"I want to tell you about Allen," Tabitha said.

"Of course," Louis picked up his pad and pen.

"He was my ex-husband," Tabitha began. "When I didn't used to dye my hair. Three years ago."

Louis nodded.

"He's dead now," the tears were already falling. "He was murdered when we were caught by the cult in Maine. We just were off-guard, and they caught us both, and...and they cut his cheeks open. They cut his skin and pulled it, tearing it off in big strips, and they poured boiling fat into the strips, and his eyes...popped...his fingers were onlyhanging on by threads...the kind of smell shouldn't come from your eyes..."

Trembling, Tabitha tried to pick up the glass of water and instead knocked it over, spilling the liquid all over herself. As Louis watched, Tabitha kept talking and kept fumbling with the glass which was now empty anyway.

"...cut the rest of his body apart...teeth...coming apart while he still screamed and he should have fainted I wish I'd fainted..." Tabitha managed to pick up the empty glass and tipped it against her mouth, farther and farther as nothing came out before she tremblingly dropped it, watching it roll down her body and across the floor.

"...ate it..." She trailed off. Unsure what Tabitha's state of mind was, Louis let her recover on her own.

"...I still get sick..."

After an unusually long pause, Louis softly asked "Do you need another glass?"

"Yes," Tabitha's voice cracked, tears still falling.

After a long, totally incoherent description, Tabitha believed she'd told Doctor Halsie everything about her husband's death. In fact, he only understood that she believed Allen had died horribly.

"It's that event which gives you your thoughts of suicide, isn't it?" Louis tried to ask gently.

Tabitha nodded. "I think of them making Mayumi eat my dead body..." she trailed off again.

"Personal trauma is a lasting thing," Louis said. "It can take years to work through."

"I don't need to work through it," Tabitha mumbled. "I just need to ignore it."

"That won't work," Louis said. "Your suicidal urge will return over and over if you keep suppressing. Really, you ought to see a licensed psychiatrist as soon as you can."

"I can't," Tabitha said.

"Because of your family?"

Tabitha looked confused. "No," she said. "Did James tell you that?"

Louis redirected. "Why would you think that?"

"He lies a lot," she answered. "Every time he introduces himself, he invents a new last name. He uses gun names; James Colt, James Springfield, James Barret, blah blah. He's got a really sharp mind for lies."

Louis looked at his notes. "But, you told me you trusted James."

"I do."

"Even though he lies a lot?"

"Yeah."

"So, does he not lie to you?" Louis probed.

"He lies to me," Tabitha said. "But it's to protects himself. If anyone has correct information about him, they could give it up under torture."

Louis bit his tongue to keep from laughing. It sounded like a joke, but he knew Tabitha believed it. He took a moment to calm himself.

"If you could get therapy for an extended time," Louis started, "don't you think you would be able to better help your friends?"

Tabitha was quiet as she thought about it. Louis could tell that he was on the right track.

"Tabitha started talking favorably about extended therapy," James said with a smile.

"Yes, she's started becoming more receptive to the idea," Louis sipped his coffee. "I think that it's the first step to getting her to stop this cult hunting."

It must have been Louis' imagination, but he thought he noticed James' eyes narrow coldly for a moment.

"Well, good." James reached into his pocket and pulled out a pre-sorted fold of bills. "It's been a while since I paid you, hasn't it?"

Louis tried to motion for James to put the cash away, but the young man reached over and slipped it into Louis' shirt pocket.

"I don't think I need it," Louis protested. "I really do think that Tabitha will agree to licensed therapy."

"Yes, I think she would," James nodded. "The issue is, she doesn't know that it would involve the psychiatric community treating her as delusional."

The two men looked at each other.

"She is delusional," Louis answered.

James smiled. "I need you to pretend that she isn't," he said softly.

"What?" Louis was confused.

"What I would like," James explained, "is for you to treat her as though she were a rational person with a high-stress job. Treat her as though she were a combat veteran or police officer returning to the field. Treat her as someone with a traumatic past, dealing with a horrific event. Take the delusional aspect from the equation."

The two men were silent for a long time.

Finally, in a voice which trembled, Louis said "you believe it."

James looked into his eyes. "How could I?" He asked in a low voice. "Believe in a cult that waits to serve reawakening dark gods? That would be silly, wouldn't it?"

"But you do," a whisper.

The Englishman's stare hardened. He looked around the shop.

"Let's walk outside," he said.

"No," Louis was staring at James, his mind reeling. Did he actually think that he was searching for a secret society.

"Look," James hissed through clenched teeth as he leaned toward Louis, "I am doing you the courtesy of telling you what you want to hear. I am lying to you, and you would do well to believe that I am not."

James face was like stone, his eyes were piercing cold blue.

"I came to speak with you because I want to be able to let you believe my lies," he said. "I have another partner who could have come to speak to you, and she wouldn't have lied. She'd have looked you in the face and told you everything, and if you asked her for proof, _she would have proved it._" James hissed the last like a snake.

"I will not prove it," James leaned back and started speaking in a normal tone. "What I will do is tell you that your patient needs to be treated like she does not have delusions, because being stigmatized through formal psychiatric treatment would mean the end of her career. You're going to believe that. I'm telling you that I don't believe in any kind of secret cult, and you'll believe it. You will treat your patient, and when you are done, you will be able to secure yourself in the knowledge that you significantly helped a mentally ill woman. That's all."

With that, James stood and walked out of the coffee shop, smiling pleasantly and looking easily at home in the beautiful, sunny day.

At the end of two months, Tabitha had lost her worn, tired look. She was thinking clearly again, and her fear was no longer overwhelming. Louis didn't know if he'd done the right thing, or allowed himself to be threatened into submission.

"We have to move on," Tabitha told him. "I can work again. I have to get back out there."

"I'm sure you do," Louis answered, feeling like he was allowing his patient to damage herself.

"You really should retire," he said, walking with her to the front door for the last time.

"You could keep working," Tabitha retorted. "You could still help people."

Tabitha opened the front door, and Louis saw James standing next to a young Japanese woman who was probably not more than five feet tall. Both of them smiled at him, and Louis thought they looked genuinely grateful to him.

With a soft smile on her pale face all framed in black hair, Tabitha joined her partners at their car. Louis watched them drive off.


	3. Chapter 3

Returning to Louisiana came with a feeling of claustrophobia for Tabitha. Driving a Jeep through the open land with sparse population and dense foliage made her think of boating through Africa, searching for Mister Kurtz. The last time she'd been in the state, she'd met Lovecraft. This time, he was probably long gone before they ever arrived.

Tabitha looked at James, behind the steering wheel. His normally calm expression was tense as he scanned the dirt road for fallen branches and other hazards. Behind them, Mayumi's headphones were probably playing Brahms or Stravinsky, lately her two favorites. She looked out the window without expression.

New Orleans was now an hour away, still a shadow of what it had been before the floods of Hurricane Katrina. Tabitha wished they were still in the city, damaged or not. The dense plant life seemed to reach for the vehicle, snaking all across the dirt road like reaching tentacles and making Tabitha wish for pavement and man-made walls.

The road curved suddenly and curved often, throwing Tabitha's sense of direction completely off.

"How will we know when we're close?" Tabitha asked.

"Best guess," James answered, looking at the Global Positioning System on the dashboard. "I think in fifteen minutes we ought to get out and walk, just to be safe."

"Fine with me," Tabitha said. "This path is making me sick."

It was a relief when James pulled off the road and stopped. They left the Jeep where it would be difficult to see from the road, shrouded in trees before starting to navigate on foot. Tabitha began to miss the dirt road as she stumbled on roots and sweated in the damp heat. James hopped and ducked easily around obstacles in spite of his rifle and backpack, while Mayumi trudged on expressionlessly without stumbling.

"Let's get back on the road," Tabitha suggested after twenty minutes. Her ankles were punished by the uneven trails.

Her partners looked at her.

"We can't," Mayumi said.

"I'll carry you," James offered.

Tabitha looked back at him, thinking he was laughing at her. "Fuck you," she said. "Let's get back on the road for a while, just until we can see the town."

"It's not a good idea," Mayumi said.

"I'm going to look at the road," Tabitha insisted. "If I can't see anything, I'm walking on it for a mile. Just wait for me."

Both partners watched silently as Tabitha walked away.

By the time she'd made the five-minute return to the road, the sun was low. Tabitha's ankles were screaming at her, and she wondered idly if they were sprained. She hated the outdoors and its torturous traps. The road was uneven and unpaved, but at least it was a sign of other human beings.

Cautiously, Tabitha looked down the road. It continued for perhaps another mile, then there was a steep drop that defied investigation from this distance. The town must have been beyond it. Tabitha felt satisfaction that no one could possibly have seen her approach from the bottom of that hill, even if she'd driven the Jeep right up to it.

Sweat was now matting Tabitha's black clothing to her body, and she considered taking her shirt off, but knew she'd have to just carry the soaked thing. Tabitha wondered if there were brambles in the road. There didn't look like...

Light glinted off of something. The low sun reflected off of a criss-cross of thin wires about twenty yards back, making a gossamer web which would tear into anything passing through it unawares. Roadside trees unwillingly held the wires in place, their bark ripped from the sharp metal. Tabitha imagined someone on a motorcycle being sliced to meat as they unsuspectingly entered the deadly shining mesh.

James and Mayumi were waiting as Tabitha made the walk back. They hadn't continued without her, as Tabitha had guessed they wouldn't. All three of them walked together again, Tabitha now even more pained from her detour.

"There's a steep hill in about a mile," Tabitha said, taking comfort in that she'd at least gleaned some information from her trek.

From off the road, however, it was not a hill. It was a cliff.

There was a sixty foot straight drop down to ground level, where a collection of small, damaged houses cast long shadows in the sunset light. The village was next to the ocean, and boats were docked along a badly rotted and amaturely constructed pier.

"What are they doing?" James whispered, even though their voices couldn't possibly carry down to the fishing village's inhabitants.

"They set up instruments," Mayumi replied, not going beyond the obvious.

Tabitha opened James' backpack and took out the small binoculars.

Magnified, the fishermen looked pale, pasty in spite of their lives spent in the sun. Most of them were bloated, looking as though they must have become victims of some strange illness which inflated their bodies and widened their eyes. They were busy setting up torches, long woodwinds and massive, stringed instruments on the coastline.

James took a second pair of binoculars from his pack and looked on. Mayumi just watched, not needing or wanting to look any closer.

The instruments were ancient. The horns looked like the first ones ever conceived by humankind, the strings like they were strung with the tendons of slaughtered prey. These were instruments which had been given up centuries ago in favor of devices with polish and clarity. These were instruments whose sounds had been forgotten.

"I could kill them all from here," James said cheerfully. "This is a good position. They'd all be dead long before they could even spot us."

That sounded good to Tabitha. She wondered if James could really pull it off. It sounded like bravado to claim to be able to kill dozens of people without a problem.

"No," Mayumi refuted. "You can't."

"I can," James insisted. "I promise you."

Mayumi shook her head. "You can't see them all," she said.

James frowned and scanned the village again, looking for something he might have missed. Tabitha looked at Mayumi's eyes, which stared at the ocean.

The water was made opaque by the low sun, light glaring and denying any hint of what lay beneath.

_Ocean stretches out forever,_ Tabitha thought. _It waits for you to intrude on it, then it destroys you._ _We aren't built to live out there._

She shivered.

James turned to Mayumi. "What am I missing?" he asked.

"Wait," Mayumi answered.

The music began after the sun went down. First came the strings, being plucked and strummed in low tones. The horns howled in after, sounding like wounded animals. The tones blended into a strange melody which echoed off the cliff walls, projecting out over the waters made black without the sun. Waters which still rejected the attempts of those on the surface to glean its secrets.

"It doesn't sound right, does it?" James asked rhetorically.

"No," Mayumi answered. Her expression was pained, offended by the music.

Tabitha squinted at the waters near the village, then grabbed James' arm and took a breath sharply, holding it to keep from screaming. James grimaced at the stinging grip on his wrist, unable to see what Tabitha was looking at.

Things moved in the water. Heads and arms emerged onto the shore, almost invisible in the dim torchlight as they crawled from dark water to black earth. Their skin shone, like fish scales. Bulbous milky eyes were barely visible from the top of the cliff.

"Deep ones," Mayumi said.

"Fuck," Tabitha whispered, fingers still tearing at James' flesh. "Oh fucking god oh shit."

One eye clenched from pain, James looked at the shore. _Frogs,_ he forced himself to think. _Those are giant frogs, nothing more. They're odd, certainly, but that's all they are. Frogs. Frogs. Frogs._

The creatures crawled on all fours, coming into the fishing village in droves. The shore was teeming with them; a mass of horrific things which were like men but unlike them, which were like fish but older than fish, too alien to have emerged naturally from the sea. They had voices, of a sort. They croaked what might have been words to each other, and to the fishermen of the village.

Tabitha loosened her grip on James and took deep breaths. "Mayumi," she whispered, voice cracking, "what are they doing?"

"They play the Song of Leviathan," Mayumi answered. "The Music Man Was Not Meant to Hear."

The three were silent for a moment, looking on with terror at the monstrous spectacle below.

"I have to stop them," Mayumi said.

"We can't," James said. "Impossible. There are too many. Far too many."

"It doesn't matter," Mayumi said. "I have to."

She started moving quickly through the dense vegetation. Startled, James and Tabitha followed. Neither of them had any idea what was going on, or what Mayumi planned.

The ground which was treacherous in the day was doubly so at night. Branches seemed to assault the trio with malicious intent, even as exposed roots snatched at ankles. Tabitha and James could each feel bruises forming as they reached an exposed slope only a few hundred feet from the village. Mayumi peered down, gathering her courage.

"What the fuck are you thinking?!" Tabitha gasped.

"Leave this alone!" James hissed at Mayumi. "We don't have to jump in the middle of this!"

Calmly, Mayumi turned and looked at James. He couldn't meet her eyes.

"We never have to," was all she said.

Mayumi dropped her backpack and undressed, going completely nude before her partners. James couldn't help looking at her small, cute body and at the same time feeling ashamed for looking.

"You can't go in the water," Tabitha said, almost in a trance. "It wants to destroy us."

James blinked, confused.

"If I come out," Mayumi said, "I'll come out near here."

She stumbled down the sharp slope, easing into the cold water before her tiny, nude form was completely lost under the blackness.

Mayumi had thought the music would stop under the water. It had a different source, but it continued. Resonant echoes hammered Mayumi's entire body, now not only burning in her ears but felt through the core of her being. The music was evil, making sounds which might have been the songs of whales which had gone insane. Of dolphins being smashed into rocks.

_You can't break rocks with your body,_ Mayumi thought as horror and desperation flooded her chest. _You break on the rocks. _

She forced her fear down, swimming deeper into the black waters. She swam deeper than even James could have with his training in the Royal Marines. Normal people couldn't go that deep and survive.

James had a rope wrapped around his shoulder, and had his Weatherby .320 in his hands. He and Tabitha waited anxiously.

"If she comes out," James said, "she may be trailing big frogs behind her."

Tabitha nodded. "We'd never be able to get down the slope. They'd catch her at the bottom of the hill."

"Should I shoot her, if that's the case?" James asked.

"I'd want you to, if it were me," Tabitha said. After a moment, she amended "if you couldn't save me."

"Right."

Blood flowed from Mayumi's nose. She couldn't adjust completely to the sea. Better than almost anyone, but not completely. Her lungs were starting to burn, already starved. Her eyes stung, though she could still see.

She could see the Deep Ones. Their dark shapes moved easily through the water, only ignoring her because of their mesmerized singing of the music of madness. There were so many of them. Mayumi knew now that she should never have told her partners that she might surface again. She couldn't. There were too many. There was no way.

Mayumi swam deeper.

For a long time, neither person spoke.

"Are we friends?" James asked, trying to break the tension.

"I think so," Tabitha said. "It's just that we don't really have common interests, so we wouldn't spend time together if we didn't depend on each other...and...we're all so different..."

James smirked. "So, no?" he said.

"Not really," Tabitha agreed. "I just didn't want to say it."

"Right," James looked at the water. "Not while one of us would die for the others."

"Right."

The music was shattering. Mayumi could no longer think, but only allow her focus and magic to guide her. The Deep Ones floated past her, unnoticed and oblivious. The body of Leviathan was forming, and would likely crush her before she could reach the source of the music.

The largest deep ones, now visible through the gloom, were in a circle. They sang, responding to the call from the surface. Their bulging eyes saw nothing except the notes, their minds given to Leviathan. Mayumi swam towards them, thought absent from action.

Mayumi's mouth opened, sea water filling her lungs. She sang back at the Deep Ones, blood emerging from her throat as her mind snapped. Above her, Leviathan thrashed.

"No one is going to remember her," Tabitha said, breaking another long silence.

"We will," James answered solemnly. "Friends or not, we will."

"She's our friend," Tabitha said. "Fuck it, I changed my mind. Anybody who'd give their life up for you is your fucking friend! She's the best friend of everybody in the fucking world, you know that? She just threw her life away for all those fucks who wouldn't cross the street to spit on her!"

"Not enough will remember, I suppose," James agreed.

The ground under them shook, almost pitching James down the slope. Tabitha yanked him back.

"Is this it?" James asked. Tabitha wasn't sure what he meant.

Waves grew, smashing against the steep hill beneath them. Hundreds of feet away, the village of fishermen was engulfed. The men and things like men were reclaimed by the enraged ocean.

James struggled to stand, activating the nightvision scope on his rifle. Next to him, Tabitha also tried to see through the scope, hardly catching glimpses.

The world was awash with green through the scope. Green froth churned on green waters, while a massive mouth devoured the smaller monsters in the water.

_Leviathan,_ James thought immediately before he reordered his mind. _Nothing,_ he forced himself to think. _A storm. Harsh water. Nothing._ He switched the nightvision off.

"What is it?" Tabitha tried to take the weapon, but James held it firm.

"Nothing," James said. "Rough water."

"It isn't!" Tabitha growled. "There's something out there!"

Inhuman roars carried to the pair, and still James refused to give up the rifle. "Don't look," he said. "Tell yourself it's something else. Keep yourself sane."

Tabitha stared at James, and James stared back. Tabitha let go of the gun.

The roars continued, the shaking hard.

The roars softened, the shaking subsiding.

The roars dulled, the shaking stopped.

And there was silence.

"She isn't there," Tabitha said before James even looked.

The slope was bare. Nothing moved.

"We'll check the village," James said.

"Okay," Tabitha felt numb.

It was a half hour before they spotted her, clinging to a rock and bleeding. Without hesitation, they ran to her. Her nose and mouth were oozing blood. She vomited sea water.

"She's here," Tabitha felt her eyes stinging as she and James pulled Mayumi's naked form away from the sea. "She's okay."

James looked at Mayumi's face, haggard and pale. He looked into her eyes.

"We break on the rocks," she said, and James knew that the person who had left them would never really come back.


End file.
